Just flew in from Seattle yesterday. I abandoned the farm to spend six days with my family up north. It was my mom’s un-65th birthday and un-retirement party (her real birthday is june 15; she’s retiring at 66). My sister and I threw her a Bastille day party featuring Sally Jackson cheeses, Salumi salami, bbq-ed oysters, and grilled Toulouse-style sausages. Also, there was a Cajun band. Riana made some yummy quiche with morels and a mind-blowing sour cherry dessert.
But the farm, right, how can I leave that for almost a week? In the end, it all worked out. My friend N came by every day and fed the goats and rabbits and chickens, I left Orla out with Bebe to keep her milked out, and I deeply watered the garden the night before I left.
After six days of absence, I thought upon my return, the goats would come running, the rabbits would clap their hairy paws together, the chickens would cuddle up. Actually, they barely noticed me when I walked through the gate. The only critter on the farm that’s ecstatic I’m back is Kousin the cat, who slept at my side all night.
Having a break made me realize how much work GhostTown Farm actually is. So many animals to care for, weeds to pull, vegetables to water, turds to clean up. But these chores, this care-taking is what gets me up in the morning, sets the rhythm for my day, makes me feel necessary and useful. It’s also nice to realize that I can leave for a few days and it’s not a disaster.
While in Seattle I picked up a copy of Common Grounds magazine, which has a very good article about the urban farming movement. The writer interviewed me, too, but the best idea came from an urban farmer in Chicago named Nance Klehm who described her “farm” as a scattered acre–a combo of rooftop gardens, a backyard, and other people’s backyards. I like this concept.
Taken to the next level, if you add up all the land devoted to urban homesteads, hobby farms like mine, community gardens, and backyard chicken runs, finally add up to many acres. When I say that I’m an urban “farmer”, I’m depending on other urban farmers, too. That its only with them that our backyards and squatted gardens add up to something significant. Scattered, but not insignificant.